At Hillis’s request, Sikar Blake and Kian Blake were walking through the grand temple garden after the service.

The two, who had been holding hands as if they were on good terms, simultaneously let go as soon as people disappeared from their sight, as if perfectly synchronized.

An awkward atmosphere once again flowed between them as they walked, each looking in different directions.

“Awkward, isn’t it?”

Though he intended to break the awkward silence, his tone remained stiff.

“Likewise.”

Honestly, this tiny brat insists on winning even the smallest verbal exchange.

But Sikar was no different—he couldn’t speak indirectly or euphemistically either.

“Why do you dislike me?”

Kian immediately shot back, glancing sideways at Sikar as if he’d been waiting for this.

“You dislike me too, Duke. Isn’t it strange that I like you?”

“That’s because you…”

You’re holding my weakness and trying to kill me—I can’t just find that cute.

To Sikar, this was only natural. He never opened his heart to others to begin with, and since Kian was an enemy trying to kill him, he couldn’t possibly view him favorably from the start.

Had Kian shown affection first, Sikar might have opened up—but his heart didn’t soften toward a child who bared teeth and growled the moment they met.

Still, true to his nature, he was making considerable effort.

“I’m trying to like you. So I expect you to try as well. We have Yura Blake in common, after all.”

“I’ll do my absolute best for Mother. She took me in… I’ll protect her no matter what happens, so don’t worry.”

In the original story, he respected and loved Reidox solely because Reidox had taken him in.

Sikar had taken him in too. Had Kian shown him that same love, Sikar might have grown fonder of him.

“My wife is under my protection—you needn’t worry.”

“I don’t expect you to protect Mother. Just… please don’t frighten her.”

Frighten her…

Sikar recalled Yura again—the image of her trembling all over as if terrified, yet gritting her teeth stubbornly refusing to yield.

“There’s something you don’t know—your mother isn’t really afraid of me.”

“Then don’t make her cry.”

“I’ve never made her cry. And your mother isn’t as tearful as you might think.”

“I mean from now on. If you make Mother cry, next time you get frozen again, I won’t unfreeze you.”

So this tiny brat is resorting to threats now. Sikar let out an involuntary chuckle at Kian’s audacity.

“Do you realize what you’re saying is a threat?”

“Yes. Of course. I’m deliberately threatening you, Duke. Please be kinder and gentler to Mother.”

Sikar pressed his forehead, feeling as if his head throbbed from tension at the base of his skull.

“You’re trying to lecture me.”

“No. It’s a full-on threat. A clear threat—I’ll ignore you even if you get frozen again unless you treat Mother well!”

“You seem unaware—I’m already treating her quite well. Had you heard the rumors circulating, you wouldn’t say such things.”

“So what? You only seem to treat her well formally when I’m watching.”

“My head really is throbbing now.”

He recalled reading somewhere that once married, one couldn’t escape a wife’s nagging.

‘Am I doomed to endure even my child’s nagging?’

“But why does everyone tell only me to be nice? Don’t you intend to be nice to me?”

Kian stopped walking, crossed his arms, and spoke as if he’d seized control of the conversation.

“I’ll see what the Duke does first.”

He looked quite arrogant—almost insolent—but equally bold.

Sikar found himself oddly pleased that Kian showed such boldness without being cowed.

He nearly smiled before realizing the insolent brat was directing that attitude toward him—and instead gave a cold smirk.

“There’s one more thing you don’t know: Yura wants you and me to get along. It’s not just me being unilaterally kind to you—she also wants you to open your heart to me. So if you truly want to make your mother happy, you must be good to me too.”

Kian suddenly felt a pang of realization. Now that he thought about it, Mother had repeatedly told him good things about the Duke and urged him to get along.

He felt upset—somehow like an unfilial son—for failing to grasp Mother’s deeper intentions.

Sikar, seeing right through Kian’s thoughts, snorted triumphantly, crossed his arms, and stared back at Kian.

“My words aren’t wrong. So you’ll stay silent, I assume.”

It was true. It stung, but he couldn’t deny it—he was indeed an unfilial son who hadn’t properly understood his mother’s heart.

Kian sighed and uncrossed his arms as if surrendering.

“Whew. I hadn’t thought that far. I guess I’m still a kid.”

Sikar, who had been watching Kian smugly, involuntarily let out a “Pfft” at Kian’s words: “I guess I’m still a kid.”

Not because he found Kian cute—but because Kian frighteningly resembled his own childhood self.

“But why are you only saying these things now, after staying silent all this time?”

“Duke, you’ve been so busy with public and private affairs that you never had time to talk with me.”

“If you had something to say, you could’ve knocked on my study door anytime. So your excuse is just that—an excuse.”

Kian had considered knocking on Sikar’s study door many times.

But each time he saw that heavy, firmly closed door, he sensed the chilling aura always surrounding Sikar.

He couldn’t bring himself to approach. To Kian, that door seemed one that would never open.

“That’s why, though it’s late, I’m telling you now: please treat Mother well.”

“Then you treat me well too—in a way Yura would like.”

“I already told you—I won’t heal your statue if you don’t treat Mother well.”

“I already told you that if you act that way, Yura will dislike it, and ultimately, it’ll harm your mother too.”

Kian was conflicted. Though slightly diminished, Sikar still radiated coldness.

Whether he wanted to or not, Kian instinctively couldn’t be affectionate toward someone who exuded such chill from birth.

No one likes someone who so obviously dislikes them.

But Sikar’s point—that he should show harmony for his mother’s sake—wasn’t wrong either. Kian needed to make up his mind.

“Fine. Then I’ll treat you well… when Mother is watching.”

“I’ll treat you well too—when Yura is watching. But if you suddenly change, Yura will suspect something. If she asks what happened, just say you decided you wanted to get along with me.”

“Fine. I’ll keep the secret—so you keep it too, Duke.”

“Don’t treat me like someone who flaps their mouth carelessly. Anyway—so are we getting along now?”

“Yes. But the moment you make Mother cry, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

“There’s something else you don’t know—the person who made Yura cry the most isn’t me. It’s you.”

‘I made Mother cry?’

Kian, who had been acting quite mature until now, instantly reverted to a startled seven-year-old boy, eyes wide with shock.

“What? Mother cried because of me?! Why, why?!”

She often cried because she was hurt and heartbroken—but there was no need to say that now.

“Parents naturally shed tears for their children.”

Kian glared at Sikar, eyes wide as if he’d been caught.

“But Duke, you never cried because of me.”

“That’s because men don’t shed tears carelessly! Can a man just yank out tears anywhere?! Remember this: you mustn’t cry easily.”

“Why can’t men cry…?”

“Back in the training chamber, when Luid cried, you didn’t cry, did you?”

“Yes. Duke.”

“Why didn’t you cry then?”

“Because there was no warmth, no chill—nothing. It just felt like an object, so I knew it had no real substance.”

“So you recognized it was fake and didn’t cry. Anyway, that’s your ability—you were stronger than Luid. So remember: men must be strong. Crying makes you weak. Only the strong can protect the family they love. So if you want to be the one who protects your mother, grow strong. Don’t shed tears over small things. Understood?”

For the first time, Kian felt the coldness around Sikar vanish. In that moment, the Duke’s heart felt genuinely warm as he spoke.

His desire to protect his beloved family was sincere.

In that instant, Kian couldn’t help but acknowledge Sikar as a strong man capable of protecting his mother.

That unshakable will—visible only in truly strong men—shone clearly.

For the first time, Sikar seemed impressive. Kian even thought he might come to admire this man.

“I will. I’ll become a strong man who can protect my family with my own hands.”

Sikar chuckled softly and extended his hand toward Kian.

“Then now that our walk is over, shall we return to your mother?”

While walking through the temple, they had to hold hands whenever people were around to avoid looking awkward—then drop hands when alone, then hold again when others appeared.

They’d held hands out of necessity until now—but this time, holding his hand didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable.

Kian cleared his throat awkwardly and gripped the hand firmly. Sikar, too, cleared his throat awkwardly as he took Kian’s hand.

Though neither thought they were truly father and son, to any observer, they looked unmistakably like a father and son—so strikingly alike.

‘Why are these men acting like this?’

Did they come to the temple and suddenly receive divine blessing—poof—making affection appear out of nowhere?

I could only rub my eyes as I stared at the two men before me.

Grandmother had stepped out to fetch the uniform fabric and materials I’d requested. In her absence, Sikar and Kian had appeared—and they were nothing like the hostile father-son pair I knew.

Unless I was seeing things, these two men were now holding hands—without anyone telling them to—and laughing heartily together, no less.

I suppose such things happen in life. No—this was the kind of thing I’d never expect to see, no matter how long I lived.

I quietly called out to Kian and asked,

“Kian. Were you threatened?”

“Huh? Threatened? Who would threaten me? Mother?”

Kian’s expression as he said this was so bright and innocent.

“Oh, no, Kian. Never mind. It’s fine as long as nothing like that happened.”

His overly innocent smile only made me more suspicious. It felt as if he were following some scripted plan.

‘Has he already been silenced by Sikar?’